


Puncture Juncture

by WarMageCentral



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Gally is the scapegoat always, Gratuitous piercing puns, Gratuitous sarcasm, M/M, Newt loves/hates Thomas, Newt loves/hates himself, Newt might be a bit of a sadist but that's okay, Piercing Studio AU, like woah
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:24:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarMageCentral/pseuds/WarMageCentral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas walks into the piercing studio where Newt works and it's the best/worst thing to ever happen to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! A note of caution - I have shipped these two for approximately five days and just had to start writing this because it's possible that I'm in too deep already.
> 
> I've seen the film once and have only started reading the first book so you'll have to forgive me if any characterisation/Glader vocab is off!
> 
> Anywho, please enjoy.

Newt doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on others.

“Ow!”

It is an unfortunate - yet necessary - part of his job.

“Shuck!”

Gally, however, is the exception.

“Sorry, mate, almost done.” Newt assures the other man with a look of feigned sympathy. If Gally notices any insincerity on Newt’s part he doesn’t comment, instead wincing when the needle is pushed through his earlobe and cleanly out the other side. “There we are, let me just get the jewellery.” As Newt turns away from him to fetch the earring from a nearby table, he feels a genuine smirk form on his face as Gally attempts to subtly wipe his suddenly watery eyes.

Usually Newt would feel all the sympathy in the world for a customer in pain, but since it’s Gally - who’s always been a bit of a slint-head and had marched into the studio today demanding that his ear be pierced “but not the gay one, that klunk don’t fly” - he allows himself to be glad just this once.

Before turning to face Gally again, Newt furrows his brows slightly and plasters on a concerned frown, asking “Oh, are you alright? Hope I didn’t hurt you too much.” He prepares to play the role of the endearingly fretful Englishman and do the whole ‘ _Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, please do forgive me, would you like a cup of tea or perhaps my car?’_ spiel which has gotten him out of more than a few sticky situations since moving to the States.

It’s the accent, more than likely. Works every time.

On everyone that isn’t Gally.

Who is currently _growling_.

“I’ll hurt _you_ too much if you don’t hurry the shuck up.”

Newt clutches one gloved hand to his chest, as if he’s been physically wounded by that _truly genius, no really, you must be a member of Mensa,_ comeback. However, he gets back to work and in about a minute, Gally’s pierced and ready to go, assuredly safe from any unwanted homosexual advances.

After Newt repeats the aftercare information - because he mightn’t be fond of the guy but he’s a _professional_ dammit - Gally leaves the studio with little more than a grunt of thanks and a gruff “Later, shank.” Newt smiles pleasantly as him, and continues to do so, even while giving the fingers to his retreating form.

It is when Newt is disposing of his sharps and gloves that Minho enters the piercing room, leaning against the door frame. “So, how was piercing your best friend Gally?” he asks with a grin.

And, oh heavens, it seems that Newt is experiencing random hand spasms as one of the gloves ends up being flung at Minho’s face. Shame, that.

Minho only chuckles good-naturedly while picking the glove up from the floor and throwing it in the bin, nodding at Newt to divulge the information.

“It turns out that - to my major astonishment, I assure you - our good chum Gally isn’t as tough as he’d like us to believe.” Newt arches an eyebrow before continuing, deadpan, “He seemed seconds away from openly weeping down my shirt and begging for his mother.”

The other man simply _erupts_ into laughter at that and Newt smirks while busying himself with tidying his workspace. Sobering slightly, but not losing his smile, Minho says “I’m taking my lunch break now so would you man the desk til I get back?”

“Sure, no bother.” Newt walks with Minho out to the small waiting room situated at the front of the studio, taking a seat behind the desk.

Minho puts on his jacket and makes to leave, but before he does he turns to Newt and says very seriously “If anyone tries to give you any trouble, just give them a _piercing glare_.” He then slips quickly out the door before Newt can find any possible projectiles to fire at his friend who isn’t funny at _all_.

The front wall of the studio is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, so Newt spends most of the time people-watching once he’s checked all of the day’s appointments and fiddled about with the radio to find a good station. He’s just beginning to re-organise some of the jewellery on display underneath the glass desk when a boy around his age stops outside the studio. He has brown hair, brown eyes and doesn’t seem entirely dissimilar to a puppy the way he cocks his head to the side. The boy’s eyes shift until they make contact with Newt’s and he smiles slightly though his face seems to be turning a rather alarming shade of red. Stopping a minute to apparently gather courage, the stranger strides over to the front door, swings it open with a flourish, head held high-

Before he promptly trips and just comes short of falling on his face.

_Bloody greenie._

Newt is going to eat him _alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was that!  
> This chapter is short because I'm not sure if I'll continue this fic or not, it'll probably all depend on the feedback but I hope you did like it and hopefully there's more to come.  
> Any feedback (including criticism and corrections!) is much much appreciated.
> 
> Have a safe and pleasant onward journey!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic lives! Another little chapter until I figure out all the kinks of this story, but I promise the chapters will be longer after this.  
> Enjoy!

The guy actually recovers pretty quickly from his trip. Newt is just about to ask him for a postcard when the stranger speaks first.

“Hey.” He says, leaning one arm on the desk and giving Newt a bright smile.

Newt allows the edges of his mouth to upturn slightly before he informs the boy brusquely, “No leaning on the glass.”

“British.” The guy whispers brilliantly, apparently too busy gaping at Newt to notice his arm beginning to slip on the glass surface of the desk before he loses his balance and nearly falls on his face _again_.

Newt smirks. The accent. _Every time._

“Told you. Now, what can I do you for Greenie?” He asks, hopefully emanating an air of nonchalance or even mild hostility so the clumsy git will leave as soon as possible. Both God and Newt know that they can’t afford the damages if this guy eventually does fall and break one of the display cases. Or, you know, his neck.

The stranger simply looks puzzled for a moment - _like a puppy_ Newt’s traitorous mind whispers - before brightening and extending a hand towards him, “Oh, I’m Thomas. Nice to meet you!” He seems so genuinely pleased to see him that Newt allows himself to smile as he replies simply with “Newt.”

“Hi!”

“Hi.”

“Hi.

“You already said that.” Newt replies, tone half-exasperated and half-fond. _Fond._ He almost snorts. Best put an end to that right now before this greenbean thinks he has _feelings_. Putting on his driest, most sarcastic voice, he attempts to dismiss the slinthead, saying “Now I actually have work to do, so as _truly_ spectacular as your conversation skills are--”

He is cut off by Thomas’ histrionic gasp and look of mock hurt as he exclaims, “You wound me, sir!”

And Newt just can’t refuse quipping, “Well that _is_ my job. Though usually I include some nice jewellery and then _charge_ for said wounds so our customers are a little less likely to sue.”

“Ha ha ha.” Thomas laughs sarcastically, though a glint in his - chocolate, definitely chocolate - brown eyes shows that he’s more susceptible to Newt’s witticisms than he lets on. “Speaking of, what kinda person works in a piercing studio and doesn’t have any piercings? Aren’t you guys meant to be like 99% reflective, a metal-detector’s wet dream, that kind of thing?”

Newt is confused for a moment, before he remembers that he doesn’t have any _facial_ piercings. Getting an idea, he decides to play with the greenie a bit. He leans forward slightly before slowly cocking a perfectly arched eyebrow and saying in his most sultry voice, “Who says I don’t have any piercings?”

Thomas somehow manages to look more confused then, before his eyes begin to slowly trail down Newt’s body and he quietly says “ _Oh._ ” Newt allows the staring to continue for another moment, both to make it more embarrassing for Thomas and because sometimes it’s nice having your ego stroked. It’s only when he realises that referencing _stroking_ when a stranger is undressing him with his eyes - there’s really no other name for it - could wind up becoming a tad awkward, never mind bloody unprofessional. The hygiene codes _alone_ \--

Newt ends up interrupting his own train of thought, before clearing his throat and saying amusedly “My eyes are up here.”

Thomas catches himself and his eyes quickly make their way back to Newt’s face, his own turning that ridiculous red again. Newt is fairly certain he could fry an egg using the guy’s forehead with ease.

“Of course they are! Where else would they be?” Thomas says in an overly-bright, overly-loud voice, before stopping short and asking, “Hey, can you get your eyeballs pierced?” sounding slightly more normal. Newt realises that - for once - the boy doesn’t look confused but _curious_ , the strange bugger.

“Do you _want_ your eyeballs pierced?” Newt asks, raising an eyebrow - and it’s possible that it never went down in the first place - and wondering if he’s actually going to find out what this guy _wants from him._

Thomas simply looks perplexed before saying, “Of course not, why would I want my eyeballs pierced?” And now he’s looking at Newt like _he’s_ the strange one. In that moment he decides that this boy is insufferable and will most likely be the death of him before he even has a chance to write his gloriously witty, tragically emotional best-selling memoirs.

Newt heaves the _weariest_ of world-weary sighs before saying, “You ask an awful lot of questions, shank. You should write a list, lest you forget any.” he suggests facetiously.

This was apparently the worst thing to say, because Thomas’ eyes actually bloody _sparkle_ before he says, “You’re right.” He then abruptly turns on his heal, leaving the studio after turning to call out a quick “See ya, Newt!” and closing the door behind him.

Newt just stands and gapes at the door until Minho returns from his lunch break who, on seeing Newt’s expression, asks, “What’s bugging you?”

Honestly, Newt doesn’t really know that himself.

But he has a terrifying feeling that he’ll soon find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and to anyone who has left feedback because it is my life's blood and you're all beautiful.  
> The rest will hopefully be up by next week, but until then feel free to hit me up on tumblr (URL's warmagecentral) and have a super duper day! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! The irony isn't lost on me that I promised longer chapters and this is the shortest yet. But I think these little snippets are a good precursor for what is to come *laughs menacingly*   
> Anywho enjoy!

The next day, Thomas comes back.

With a list.

An honest-to-God list of shucking questions.

“What’s the name of the first recorded piercing artist?” He asks, leaning against the wall this time, and staring inquisitively between Newt and a page in his hand.

“Fabio.” Newt deadpans, busying himself with re-arranging the body jewellery on display and resolutely _not_ looking at the other boy even though he is wearing a shirt that is _scandalously_ tight and should really be made illegal immediately.

“Really?”

“No.”

“Dammit. Okay, next question,” He continues, undeterred, “Why is the sky blue?”

“Because all of your stupid bloody questions made it very sad-- look, Tommy, are you actually going to get a piercing or are you just going to stand there wasting my shucking time?” Newt finally straightens to look Thomas in the eye.

Which is perhaps the worst decision he’s made in his miserable life as Thomas has this dopey grin on his face that glint in his eye which can only mean horrible things for Newt.

“You called me Tommy.” He says triumphantly, grinning broadly at Newt like this is all perfectly normal, like Newt has a habit of giving his not-customers pet names and openly showing _affection._ Best nip that in the bud.

“I’d be as well calling you slinthead for the amount of good you do me, or the rest of the world for that matter.” He retorts brusquely.

Thomas is still smiling brightly at him.

Still wearing that shucking _shirt, oh my god._

“That’s not true; I put your general knowledge to the test like no one else can!”

“You’re essentially a walking talking pub quiz.” Newt states with an eye-roll. “Not to mention a pain in the arse. Now I have an appointment soon with an _actual paying_ _customer_ , so if you don’t mind--” He gestures towards the door but Thomas doesn’t leave immediately, _of course_ he doesn’t, the shank.

“One more question, please Newt-Newt?”

Newt’s eyebrows shoot up so quickly he’s worried they’ll be lost somewhere in his hairline until the end of days.

“Only on the grounds that that name never be uttered again.”

“You love it.” Thomas smiles that infuriating little smile before his face grows sombre and Newt feels hope, maybe, just maybe, he’ll be graced with a serious question for once. Then Thomas says, “Okay - boxers or briefs?” and Newt sees red.

“Whether I wear boxers, briefs or frilly pink knickers with love hearts on them will be of little consequence when I punch you in the shucking _face_ , Tommy! Now get out.”

Thomas deflates a little, and finally turns to leave the studio. Instead of feeling pleased, guilt begins to overwhelm Newt, because he didn’t mean to upset the guy, but he did, of course he did, because Newt ruins everything and--

And Thomas is turned towards Newt, a small smile on his face as he asks, “ _Do_ you wear frilly pink--?” He doesn’t get to finish as Newt chucks a pen at him, but Thomas’ loud laughter carries even after he’s left the shop and Newt doesn’t feel as bad.

Until he realises that Thomas will more than likely be back tomorrow.

Then he feels _awful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, the next chapter should be up very soon (and it'll be longer (and aNGSTIER (ahahaha I hate myself)))   
> Until then, have a lovely day <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll apologise after...

When Thomas comes back the next day, Minho is still in the studio.

Newt is just cleaning up a few drops of blood from a girl’s newly-pierced sideburn when he hears it. That bloody _voice_.

“Hey Newt- _Nooo_ … You’re not Newt.”

Newt repeats the aftercare information to the customer so quickly that he could probably give Busta Rhymes a run for his money. He then proceeds to usher - gently, of course, Newt is nothing if not a gentleman - her out of the piercing room with a rushed reminder to come back in two weeks for a check-up.

And then she’s gone.

And Newt is left alone with Minho, who is smiling like the cat who got the canary, and Thomas, who is-- well, it’s Thomas so obviously he looks like an adorably confused puppy and Newt’s icy heart is thawing and Minho smiles even _wider_ because he knows, they all _know_ \--

“So who’s your friend, _Newt-Newt_?” Minho drawls and actually bats his eyelashes the shucking slinthead.

Thomas turns and extends a hand to Minho, and begins with an easy smile, “Hey, I’m--”

“Leaving. _Now._ ” Newt cuts in and begins to put on his jacket. “Do you mind switching breaks with me, Minho? Thanks.” He says before waiting on a response and roughly grabs Thomas’ arm to drag him out of the studio.

They walk down the street in silence for a moment, before Newt pulls them into a relatively secluded car park round the back of the studio. Only when they’re leaning against the chain-link fence does Thomas speak, with some of his usual humour, “You know if you wanted to get me alone away from the studio, _dinner_ is usually the best--” He stops short and furrows his eyebrows concernedly when Newt removes a cigarette from his pocket and hastily lights it. “Those things’ll kill you, you know.”

Newt barks a quick humourless laugh, “Not a moment too soon.”

Thomas isn’t deterred, however, is still looking at Newt with that damned _caring_ in his eyes that lets Newt know what he has to do next, because he can’t wait around until that caring eventually turns into resentment, not again, not with Tommy.

“You still shouldn’t be--”

“And you shouldn’t _be here_!”

_Cruel to be kind, and all that._

Newt rounds on Thomas then, taking what is probably an unnecessarily long drag of his cigarette before exhaling slowly, deliberately, and asking in the coldest tone he can muster, “What do you want from me?”

Thomas, damn him, doesn’t look upset so much as confused, with an air something not entirely dissimilar to defiance. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“Is it? Because from what I can tell you--”

Thomas, surprisingly, cuts him off. “I want _you_ , Newt.” He states, not bluntly, but factually, like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.

Newt lets out another sound that definitely isn’t a laugh before saying, “No you don’t.”, mimicking Thomas’ tone.

“But I--”

“ _I’m not good, Tommy!_ ” Newt snaps, all sense of decorum gone because this shank, for some reason, isn’t bloody _getting it_. “I’m not a good person. Not to myself, and I certainly can’t be good to you.”

“How do you know that?” Thomas counters, voice rising in volume with every word. “C’mon, Newt, how can you possibly know that if you won’t even try?”

“I hurt people for a living! It’s my _job_ to put holes in people, because that’s all I’m bloody good for.”

“You take something ordinary and turn it into something beautiful.” Thomas states, looking Newt dead in the eye with such conviction that for a second, Newt almost considers giving up the fight. Considers just accepting these compliments as much as he can and letting himself get the good guy, get the happy ending.

Except that wouldn’t be the ending at all. Because Thomas would eventually grow sick of Newt, grow to resent him and make himself miserable in the process. So Newt turns away from Thomas, flicking the ash and then taking a drag from his neglected cigarette before saying softly, “You don’t know me.”

Just as soft, Thomas says, “You won’t let me.” And Newt swears he hears his voice break towards the end.

_Time to go to DEF-CON 1._

Swinging round, almost violently, to face Thomas with a sneer, Newt barks, “Have you ever considered, _Tommy_ , that maybe _I_ don’t want to know _you_? Hm? Ever occurred to you that you’ve been nothing but a distraction and a thorn in my side since you walked through the door? Had it even crossed your desolate hovel of a mind that perhaps it’d be a _blessing_ if I never saw your fucking face again?”

Thomas just blinks at Newt, face completely void of any expression before saying, barely above a whisper, “You can’t mean that.”

“And _you_ can’t just make people fall in love with you, Tommy!”

For a few beats they stand and stare at each other in complete silence, before Newt throws the remainder of his cigarette at the ground beside Thomas’ feet. With cold indifference, Newt looks the other boy in the eye and says, “Goodbye, Thomas.” before turning on his heel and exiting the car park. Before walking too far, he stops, but doesn’t turn again as he informs Thomas coolly over his shoulder “The studio is for customers only. Show up again and I’ll have you escorted from the premises.”

Newt begins the lonely walk back to the piercing studio.

 

 

 

 

 

Too absorbed in his own self-pity, Newt doesn’t notice he’s being followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry :/  
> It gets happier I promise, it'll be so fluffy your teeth will rot!  
> Until then, feel free to shout at me in the comments or on tumblr (the URL's warmagecentral)
> 
> I'm sorry again <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an itty bitty chapter - more of an interlude really - because I am tRASH.  
> But enjoy!

“Lover’s spat?” Minho asks when Newt walks through the door.

Newt barely glances at the other boy as he shrugs his jacket off and says “I had to set some things straight.” voice completely devoid of emotion.

“Oh really?” Minho raises an eyebrow, lips quirking into a smile. “Because from what I saw, _straight_ is the absolute _last_ thing--”

“ _Minho_.” Newt cuts him off, and seeing his friend’s concerned expression he scrubs his face with his hands and sighs. “Sorry, man, I’m just… tired.” he finishes lamely.

Minho nods slightly, though his expression is still one of concern. He begins gently, “I’ve noticed you’ve been in a good mood these past few days.” Newt simply grunts in response, which apparently isn’t a sufficient reply as Minho continues, “I don’t suppose it would have anything to do with a certain someone.”

Newt attempts a smirk as he looks up at Minho and declares with mock sincerity, “You, of course. Your charming nature and general presence has brightened up my life like no other could.”

But Minho waves a dismissive hand, stopping Newt with a roll of the eyes. “Well I know _that,_ obviously, I mean we all know I’m dabomb.com--”

“Did you just--?”

“--However, I think someone else is the cause of this.” Minho continues, undeterred. He begins to slide across the counter towards Newt, “Perhaps a certain… greenie. A greenie with a lot of questions.”

“Minho.” Newt warns in a low tone.

“A greenie who’s probably never had a piercing in his shucking life."

“ _Minho._ ”

And at this point Minho has somehow contorted himself so he is lying sprawled backwards over the desk, looking up-side down at Newt and waggling his eyebrows at him. “Any idea who I could be talking about… _Newt-Newt?_ ”

“Alright that’s it!” Newt decides then to launch himself at Minho and tackle him to the ground, the other boy shouting “ _Oh Newt-Newt this is no way to treat a lady!_ ” and “ _I’m delicate!_ ” (ironic seeing has he has Newt in a headlock).

During their scuffle they don’t notice a girl walk into the studio. She stands at the door for a moment, taking in the scene before her with equal parts amusement and bemusement, raising a single eyebrow before clearing her throat delicately. The girl smirks as both boys quickly poke their heads above the counter, probably not looking entirely dissimilar to meerkats.

Newt feels himself splutter abashedly as he hastily stands up and gains his composure, meeting the girl’s confident blue-eyed gaze as he says, “So sorry, my colleague had to be saved from his own stupidity,” Minho gasps out a quiet “ _I resemble that remark!”,_ to which the Englishman rolls his eyes and continues “but thankfully he’s not the one that does the piercing. I’m Newt,” he comes to the front of the table and extends his hand, “welcome to The Glade. What can I do you for?”

The girl shakes his hand firmly - _very_ firmly, this girl must eat her veggies - and asks “Do you take walk-ins?” She smiles brightly at Newt.

And for some reason he’s bloody terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I swear actual plot is gonna happen soon and the angst will be resolved and everyone will be happy happy happy.  
> In the meantime thank you so so much for all the feedback it has given me the confidence to keep this thing going and you're all lovely and you look beautiful today. Yes, you!  
> Until next time, have a safe an pleasant onward journey <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? An uPDATE??? I'm so so sorry everyone, I won't waste even more of your time with excuses for why this was so long coming, but please take this humble offering and try not to lynch me? Maybe? Thank you!
> 
> This chapter contains detailed descriptions of a piercing and although I have had many piercings done, including these ones, I am not actually a piercer myself and therefore all of my knowledge is from my own experience and what little I could be bothered to google, so feel free to point out any errors.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy!

“Of course we do!” Minho simply beams at the girl as if there was no one in the world he’d rather see. “I believe we don’t have any appointments scheduled for this afternoon, isn’t that right, Newton?”

“Although that isn’t my name which you well _know_ , Minho,” Newt pauses to look sternly at his friend whose smile hasn’t faltered in the slightest, before turning to address the girl “he’s right, actually, we’re free this afternoon. Are you interested in getting a piercing?”

The stranger smiles sweetly and says, “I am, yes.”

Newt feels himself internally jump for joy, because _finally_ a customer who actually just wants a piercing, and will be in and out in no time and everything will just be fine and dandy and he can go home soon and feel sorry for himself in peace.

Minho walks behind the counter to fetch the required forms before asking, “What can we do for you, then?”

“Both nipples, please.” The girl says, still smiling brightly while looking Newt in the eye with an air of defiance, as if _daring_ him to comment. He simply raises his eyebrows before shrugging and going into the piercing room to get ready.

Minho, because he’s Minho, giggles.

And continues to do so throughout the rest of the questioning.

Once he has made certain that the girl - Theresa, apparently - is of age and has not, in fact, consumed alcohol, taken drugs, or contracted any STI’s in the past 24 hours (“Though that does sound like one hell of a night!”), Minho sends her out back to Newt.

“Hey.” He starts kind of awkwardly, closing the door behind Theresa before speaking again. “Now it’s perfectly normal for you to feel nervous, the nipple, after all is a rather intimate area--”

“Nope.” and suddenly the girl is whipping off her blue jumper and flinging it over a nearby chair. It appears she had decided to forgo wearing a bra today also. Alright.

“Alright.” Newt breathes and tries to bring his eyebrows down from where they are no doubt hiding among his hairline by now. Usually he’d internally applaud such a show of body confidence but everything this girl does seems so _unnerving_ to Newt and he cannot for the life of him figure out why. However, he is cool, calm, collected, and a bloody professional, so he simply puts on his most charming smile and sits on his stool, beckoning Theresa towards him with one gloved hand.

He shows her the wipe that he will use to disinfect the area before any actual piercing begins, warning her that it might feel a bit cold, before setting to work and finding himself making intense eye-contact with her nipples for the first time. “Now I’m going to use this special sterile ink to mark where the piercings are going to be so I need you to hold still for me, okay?”

Theresa says nothing, just raises her eyebrow and nods.

Deciding that that’s all the confirmation he’s going to get, Newt sets about carefully marking either side of each nipple with neat little dots, showing where the needle will exit and enter. He notices that Theresa holds herself perfectly still, breathing carefully so as to allow Newt to keep his markings tidy. For this he is grateful, as he remembers some nightmare customers over the years who had fidgeted and giggled before he’d even touched them. As that wasn’t the case here, Newt is finished quickly and sits back before asking the girl to have a look in the mirror to determine whether or not the placement is to her liking.

Cool as a breeze, she saunters over to the full-length mirror situated on the wall and takes a close look at her newly-marked areolas. After a moment she turns to Newt once more and smiles sweetly, saying “Perfect.”

Relieved for a reason he can’t quite fathom, Newt lets out a breath and instructs her to lie down on the large leather chair that takes up the centre of the room. Once she is situated comfortably on the chair Newt rolls his tray table beside him and holds up the first single-use sterile needle in front of Theresa’s face, so she can verify that there is no sharing of sharps in this establishment _thank you very much_. He does the same with the clamp and once she seems satisfied he bends his head down, leans over her, gets the clamp in position, and just as he is about to put the needle through the right nipple--

“So let’s chat about Thomas.”

\-- Newt is lucky he doesn’t _stab_ the woman.

“ _What the bloody fuck?”_ He quickly releases the clamp and rolls away from her, getting his breath back. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!”

Somehow still calm, Theresa continues in an almost bored tone, “I like to live dangerously. Now stop avoiding the real situation at hand here, which is you being a dick to Thomas.”

There is a sudden bang as the door to the piercing room opens to reveal a wild Minho who exclaims, “You know Thomas?!”

“ _Minho!_ ” Newt yells, absolutely horrified that his friend would intrude on a half-naked lady who has every right to _sue them for all they’re worth_ now, dammit. Frantically turning to Theresa he splutters, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, really, I swear to god he’s fired then I’m going to murder him and they’ll never find his body--”

“Nah, he’s cool, you’re the problem here.” She states with a roll of her eyes, “C’mon in, Minho.”

Grinning from ear to ear Minho waltzes in - at least having the good grace to close the door behind him - before saying in an almost scandalised tone “Geez, Newt, everyone has nipples, stop sexualising hers just because she’s a girl.” And to this Theresa _lifts her hand for a high-five_ and Newt is just so lost he wants to curl up in a corner and listen to “Everybody Hurts” and sob for a while.

“Will I ever get normal bloody customers.” He mutters brokenly before sighing and massaging the back of his neck.

“Look, the sooner you get your head out of your ass the sooner this can all be over.” Theresa says, sitting up now. “Now what I want to know is why you were screaming abuse at my best friend not half an hour ago - who, by the way, has the most pathetic crush on you I honestly want to vomit everywhere every time he makes those damn heart-eyes.”

“Newt, you were yelling at Thomas?” Minho demands, expression serious now which can only mean bad things for Newt and possibly the human race.

Newt is stunned into silence for a few moments, sweating under the weight of the stares of the two people before him and he suddenly feels like a pre-school kid being told off by his parents. But damn them, Newt shouldn’t feel intimidated by some stranger and his idiot best friend who will always take his side in the end _anyway_ , so he takes a deep breath, and begins to calmly plead his case.

He still quickly prays that he’ll make it out of the room without a needle shoved through his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear to all the gods there are that newmas will be happening very very soon. There are only a couple of chapters left of this fic (though I have an idea for a sequel maybe if anyone's interested by then) so they should be up soon (really this time, I won't leave you hanging that badly again).
> 
> Until then I hope you have enjoyed this chapter and the fic so far, feedback of any kind will make me cry of happiness probably and I hope you have a lovely day/evening/night/whenever <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back, back again *rhythmically snaps fingers*  
> Okay but no sorry for taking so long to update, I'll not ramble here and let you get on with the chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

“It’s all Thomas’ fault, really.” Newt begins reasonably.

Which, in hindsight, might not have been the wisest move, considering he’s currently in a room with two of the most _un_ reasonable people he’s ever met. One of whom is within hand’s reach of a needle and is giving Newt a particularly murderous glare, informing him better than any words ever could that he should tread very carefully with his next sentence.

“I kept telling him to go away!” He insists, throwing his hands up in an exasperated gesture which is hopefully successful in conveying just how shucking _sick_ he is of having to explain himself to people.

“Well you clearly didn’t do a very good job.” Teresa remarks challengingly.

“Which means you obviously didn’t want him to go.” Minho states simply, nodding his head easily like he is perfectly sound of mind and isn’t talking complete and utter bollocks.

“Yes I did!” Newt maintains, and he is definitely not whining, he’s _not._

“No,” Minho replies, “you didn’t. I don’t know if you know this, dude, but you can be kinda scary sometimes--” a snort from Teresa here suggests that there’s a lot she could say to _that_ statement, but Minho carries on “And you can be a bit of a dick. Newt,” and here he pauses to look Newt in the eye without a hint of irony, as he states completely seriously “you are a giant scary dick.”

Newt begins to splutter indignantly and, momentarily blindsided by the disturbing image that is now firmly planted in his head, he is smoothly cut off by Minho who continues on unperturbed. “You would have no trouble getting rid of someone if you _really_ wanted them gone. Which leaves us with two possibilities.” Minho holds up one finger, a shit-eating grin on his face, “Either you not-so-secretly _crave_ Thomas’ company with every fibre of your being so that he can shed some light into your edgy, tortured soul,--”

“Minho , I will shove this clamp down your _throat--_ ”

“ _Or,”_ a second finger is lifted to join the first, _“_ the kid is completely oblivious to your dislike of him and/or has some kind of death wish.” Minho finishes, raising his hand to his chin to apparently stroke an imaginary beard, overly-puzzled expression on his face.

Teresa takes this moment to voice her thoughts, sitting up fully in the large leather seat and still deciding to forgo the jumper, which. Well.

It’s a good thing the heating’s on, in any case.

“While that actually _is_ an accurate description of Tom,” Newt tells himself that the nickname falling so casually from her lips does not bother him in the slightest, “it doesn’t change the fact that he led him on.” Teresa jabs a finger towards Newt, who she addresses directly now and Newt swears he can feel himself start to sweat under the weight of that stare. So much so, that for a moment he almost forgets to be outraged.

Almost. After all, he does hail from a nation known historically for being disproportionately scandalised at the expense of the rest of the world.

“And what exactly gives you the shucking right to sling these accusations about, hm?” Newt seethes, “You don’t even know me.”

“Oh, yes I do.” Teresa states without missing a beat. “I know all about you. Because I used to _be_ you, Newt.” She holds up a hand to silence both Newt and Minho before either can voice their confusion (or theories regarding past lives, alternate realities, and The Matrix, _thanks Minho_ ) and rolls large blue eyes before soldiering on. “I tried to gather what kind of person you are from what Tom has told me about you, and what I heard in that car park just confirmed what I’d already thought.” Pausing to take a deep breath here, as if steeling herself for what she’s about to say, Teresa actually gives Newt a small sympathetic smile. Probably to soften the blow, Newt muses.

“I know you’re someone who feels the need to isolate yourself most of the time. I don’t know why, maybe a bad experience with an ex or whatever,” Newt hopes no one notices him wince, “but you probably think that you can’t let yourself get close to someone again, to ‘save them from you’ or ‘spare everyone the time because it’ll eventually crash and burn’ or whatever other bullshit excuses you tell yourself.” and Newt can’t believe she actually used _air quotes_ , or how shucking close she is to hitting the nail right on the shucking head, and how much that _hurts_.

“Newt…” Minho begins softly, looking slightly pained so Newt knows he must be letting his inner turmoil show: in the way his face goes carefully blank, in the way he’s slouched in his stool, the way he bounces his leg up and down nervously, lightly trembling fingers grasping for a phantom cigarette.

“No, he needs to hear this.” Teresa interjects, voice firm yet not at all unkind for someone who has decided to pick apart all of Newt’s deepest insecurities in front of his best friend. Newt longs for the seat that Teresa is currently perched on, after all isn’t the one being psychoanalysed meant to get the comfy chair?

“Newt, you need to stop getting in the way of your own happiness.”

“ _Like for more love quotes._ ”

“Slim it, Minho!” Newt barks, deciding that if he’s going to get chewed out he might as well get it over with. Minho, suitably chastised, mutters a quick apology and gives Teresa a nod to continue, and she wastes no time in doing just that.

“Look, Tom likes you, and you like him- Yes you do, Newt.” Teresa interrupts his protests before he can even voice them, silencing him with a sharply raised eyebrow and a tone that brooks no arguments. “You might have your problems, but so does everyone else, and Tom will understand that. He’s actually a really nice guy when it comes to stuff like that. One of the best, even.”

“I know.” Newt breathes, because somehow he _does_. He barely knows Tommy, and yet Newt can say in no uncertain terms that he may be one of the most understanding people he’s ever met.

And Newt threw that back in his face.

Because he’s an _idiot_.

“Okay I can see you beating yourself up from here” Teresa sighs, expression almost bored now, “Why don’t you just go talk to him and sort everything out? Because I know what Tom’s like when he’s upset, and I refuse to watch him cry into ten stacks of pancakes while listening to Shakira, not again.”

“Shakira?” Minho asks, confused.

“It’s a long story.” Teresa brushes his question off, though neither of them misses her small shudder and far-away stare as if she’s recalling some sort of horrible battle. “One we don’t have time for anyway, because _you_ are going to go talk to Tom _right_ now, and I’m not leaving until you do.”

Newt just sort of sits dumbly for a moment, studying the woman’s face for any traces of a bluff, of which there are none. Rather than continue to sit and get glared at, Newt finds himself having no option but to heave an appropriately put-upon sigh and rise to find his jacket.

“Attaboy!” Minho whoops, “Go get him!”

Newt halts before he gets to the door, looking at Teresa and asking, “But what about your piercings?”

“They can wait.” She states immediately, as if she was waiting for him to use that as an excuse.

“Fine. And Minho just… don’t do anything worthy of a sexual harassment lawsuit okay?”

Newt, who has turned to leave the room, misses Minho flipping him off but it’s not like he would have the time to reciprocate, all of his thoughts and every nerve ending in his body thrumming to a litany of _Thomas Thomas Thomas._

He barely registers his surroundings as he walks out of the studio and down the street.

Where he walks for what must be a good ten minutes, before he realises that he never actually got Tommy’s address.

_Fuck it all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of Thomas but the next chapter will be 100% unadulterated newtmas fluff I pROMISE YOU!
> 
> There'll probably only be one or two chapters left, but I might turn it into a series so if you have any requests for oneshots within this 'verse or featuring any of the other gladers, feel free to hit me up in the comments or on tumblr (themarchofmyfairyking)
> 
> Have a fantastic day, take care!


End file.
